The Rays Of His Sun
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: ClaireOliver.They meet and he's intoxicated by her; they meet and she hates him. Follow them through time and how they come to be together. GH to CC. AU, obs, since it's ClaireOliver. Go on and read and review!


_For those who like ClairexOliver – NothingnessAlchemist is one?_

_I don't own anything._

_Once again, a long oneshot; I hope you'll like it!_

_Um, oh yeah, the fact it's this pairing, it's sort of obvious that it's an AU. Just sayin'_

_& I haven't read GH or DGD for like 84759546984576 years, so it's probably not accurate…and the others haven't been read since May *sobs*_

* * *

_~x~_

For the first five hundred and however many years of his life – barring the odd moment of irrational thoughts compiling of "I hate her" – Oliver has loved Amelie. She's been the one he has always wanted, the one who, no matter for how secret she has always appeared, he has had the inkling that she returns his feelings.

For the first sixteen years of her life, Claire has loved nobody – _well_, not in the romantic way. She's loved her parents, of course, and her Aunt Julia, as well as her grandparents before they died. She's loved her one and only best friend, Elizabeth, as a friend and _definitely_ had a love-love relationship with science. Yet she's never had the chance to feel her heart flutter for a boy, never had to get through a crushed dream, something which could be deemed a blessing, but more likely called a shame that she has missed out on something high school is supposed to bring.

He arrives in Morganville one year before she does, his heart continuing to love Amelie, no matter their history – yet when he sees her, he finds something different to what he expected.

It's beyond obvious to him that she's in love with this despicable Sam Glass; Oliver hates him simply because he's so _perfect_ – brilliant Sam Glass can never do anything wrong. _Everyone_ loves him, even the vampires who pretend to shun him on Amelie's orders. This man, this redheaded _angel_ (compared to Oliver's devilish state of being), almost causes Oliver to give up his pretence of being a human just because Amelie ordered it.

And, for the next year, he prepares for the day that he can begin to allow his broken heart to heal.

_~x~_

Twelve months and thirteen days later and his heart remains as fragmented as it was when he first pieced together that Amelie loved Sam – that she continues to love him, no matter how she appears to act around him.

He's living up his role as a human café owner, taking hippie to the extreme in such a way that he would be carted off to a mental hospital in any place other than Morganville. Yet here, the only thing that he gets from 'other humans' is respect – the respect that he can run such an establishment for both humans and vampires and be listened to 'as a lowly human'.

He's desperate for the town, for _something_ to take his mind off of everything – he just wants the book. He just wants the one thing that can get him out of this town for good – or to have the town from the woman he is slowing beginning to hate. The tight leash she has him on makes it near impossible some mornings for him to get out of bed and pretend to be this happy go lucky man who hasn't a care in the world, even vampires not bothering him.

And then she appears.

It doesn't happen like _that, _this romance; at first, the only thing he notices is her blood. It continues to spread from the wounds scattering her body, oozing into the bandages covering them – yet they don't cover the smell and it's _oh, so tasty_! He barely remembers that "he's a human" and that he needs to not only keep the existence of vampires away from the college students but also his identity as a vampire from _anyone_ human in the café.

It's his employee Eve who has brought the tasty smelling girl, yapping to him about some other bitchy thing dear Monica Morrell had managed to get herself linked to; he'd have to be having a word with Brandon. Yet the only thing he can see in this girl is potential: she could be great, for him _or_ Amelie – yes, he shall have to ensure he snares her first, so he can unlock the brilliance below the battered surface.

"Hello, Claire," he says to her as their first contact. Everything about her seems fragile: her thin brown hair loose around her shoulders; the darting of her soul-revealing brown eyes around the room to see if Monica is present; the way she holds herself – even her _name_ seems fragile to him! After all, he thinks, when has there ever been a Queen _Claire_ of England?

"Hi," she whispers back, almost seeming scared to talk – not that he can blame her. Already, though, he's sizing her up, looking to see what there is in her that he can utilise to get his end goal: the book. She's perhaps _too_ perfect, he decides, like Sam; he can sense an inner core of ultimate strength within her – as otherwise how would she be here?

He can only hope that she doesn't decide to use her brilliance for 'good', for Amelie, for the one who believes she and she alone ought to have the powers of the town.

They chat for a bit, each word reaffirming his idea that she could be just brilliant for him, that she could make the difference between him succeeding and failing.

And, there's the added bonus that she's pretty.

.

She leaves quite quickly – the Collins boy, the one that causes so much trouble, comes to pick her up for some reason. Before the door has even swung shut, Sam bloody Glass is taking a righteous stance with Oliver, forcing him back into his office to allow him to reveal his true colours.

"I can see what you're planning," Sam tells Oliver in a flat voice, not bothering to introduce anything. "She's been here a matter of _days_, Oliver, and known about vampires one heck of a lot less than that," he continues despite Oliver's blatant disinterest in his words.

"Are you done?" Oliver looks up from his nails, internally dismal about the fact that he has to deal with so much coffee. It doesn't exactly make the fact he is such a dangerous player in Morganville exactly believable; it simply furthers the assumption held by most that he is simply a front to a much more dangerous source.

"Well…that depends if you're going to leave the girl alone," Sam blusters, wrongfooted for not expecting this question.

"Her name is _Claire_, Sam, something you would have known if you had spoken to her for even one minute, or listened beyond your basic assumption of what is going on," Oliver sighs, each word clipped with the accent that is recognisably English, yet _never_ as pronounced as the films make it out to be. "I have no interest in the girl, even in the realm of which I presume you are alluring to, for the other possible field in which you could be meaning would be called illegal activities with a minor," he continues, rolling his eyes as he looks at Sam.

"So you're going to stay away from her?" the redhead seems defiant in terms of he shall not leave without an answer going his way.

"I have no _desire_ to make her aware of my status as a vampire – unless, of course, your actual meaning of that is you wish for me to remove Amelie and replace myself as ruler, in which case keeping quiet about being a vampire would be rather difficult," he smiles slightly as the younger, more naïve model of himself – in a way; after all, he was _never_ ginger – as he recognises he has entirely annihilated any response he would have had.

"Um…ok then," is the only thing that comes out of Sam's mouth before he nearly runs out of the door, leaving Oliver alone.

Almost as soon as he is alone, his thoughts drift back to the girl who has intrigued him so in such a short period of time. In fact, there has been precisely one other girl who has done this in his life, and she is long dead - and even she didn't allure him as much as the newest human in town does. _She_ could be the one that hands him the town…she could.

As he thinks about this, he realises something: he's forgotten the pain of Amelie…already.

_~x~_

Time passes and he waits eagerly for her to embroil herself in the mystery surrounding the book. After all, it's only a matter of time – she's the newbie in town, she's living in a Founders House with some of the biggest troublemakers in town and she's smart. The three added together equate to her slipping into the search, something she does within mere days.

He first realises it's her when his best 'searcher', John, is disfigured by liquid nitrogen – the only girl with the ability to assume that such a chemical could damage a vampire is the girl who he has been monitoring for days. She doesn't do much other than attend school and get close to the Collins boy – actions that sets his teeth on edge already – but she is _obviously_ searching for the book.

He's heard, through the grapevine, that Amelie has already spoken to her, that she is already attempting to utilise the addition of such a valuable source to her town. If there's something more annoying than there being a human so valuable, it's that Amelie wants her – if she knew of her brilliance so early on, why did she not assist before?

Yet he discovers that Claire _has_ found the book – and it's in her house. She brings a photo of it to his office one day, still trusting that he is good and human, not about to kill her or threaten her in order to get the book.

"Where did you find it?" he asks her, unable to contain his glee at the fact _he knows where the book is_! Better than that, he knows where it is and Amelie _doesn't_. it's not a copy, of that he is sure, as he can remember every intricate detail of the picture simplified for the humans to look for, incase forgeries were attempted.

She blushes and the reminder of the sweet smell of her blood hits him at this point, the desire to reach out and bite into her neck nearly overpowering him. it's so tempting, so utterly desirable, which is unique in itself – how many women does he come across daily, yet she is the only one whom he desires to taste?

To distract himself, to bring himself back to the task at hand, he focuses intently on the words uttering themselves out of her mouth, learning nothing of importance – as, after all, would she really tell someone she barely knows (even if he is _good_) every single detail as to how she has came across the most valuable thing in the entirety of Morganville?

"I shall come over at six pm," he tells her suddenly, interrupting her mumbling. "We can – if you are willing – decide then what path forwards we ought to take in regards to handing the book to the correct person for the correct sum," he continues, suddenly more eager than ever to hold the leather book between his hands, devour the information Bishop handed to Amelie in the book when she stole it from his corpse.

"That'd be great," she, naïve to the max, agrees without a qualm or even a condition. She even leaves the photo on the table, almost as a "it's proof that I really _do_ have it" sort of thing, which he picks up as soon as she's gone.

All of a sudden, all the thoughts he has had of her being useful to him, being the catalyst of change in _his_ direction, have become true: she has informed him where the book is located and she will give it to him.

After all, she trusts him.

_~x~_

The fifteenth thing in the room is smashed as he loses control once again, unable to accept the turning of events in mere hours. He has gone from being one of only five people aware of the book's location in the Glass House to being both ousted as a vampire _and_ losing this precious advantage over Amelie.

The girl, Claire, ought to be shot in his mind – that, or given to him to torture slowly for giving the book to his enemy. Never before has he wanted her blood so badly, in a vengeful pattern of thoughts somehow always leading him back to the moments he knew she only thought he was human. He had spoken with her on numerous occasions, he realises as he looks back; she seemed to accept him, in opposition to now – now she hates him.

For the first time in weeks, a melancholy feeling threatens to take over his anger as the main emotion, making him feel drained every second he fights to keep it at bay. He, in the strangest of senses beneath the anger and disappointment, feels almost _depressed_ that she gave the book to Amelie, for more than the simple 'I need the book to remove Amelie from power' that usually matters. No, for the first time in hundreds of days prior, the knowledge that a girl like Claire exists – poignant smelling blood, smart, fragility to a point that reminds him of the past – had begun to knit together the fragmented parts of his heart together, the remnants scattered by Amelie; this occurred without him knowing, a sort of subconscious recognition as he slept yet nothing further.

Yet now he can feel the slow dismantling of the process: whether it is for the _minute_ possibility it could have something to do with her or the simple fact she had destroyed his entire plan for Morganville ever since he discovered its existence, he doesn't know, yet he knows it hurts more and more as every second passes.

And now, now he must head to Amelie and be gracious in defeat. He supposes, if he dares chance it, he could run from Morganville; he has no need to remain to keep up the pretence of being the hippie human café owner so can slip into non-existence near instantly and return to his life outside of Morganville, the one he thought he would only be putting on hold. Conceivably, he could escape and never return – it would be unlikely that Amelie would send anyone after him, when she had rid herself of her most powerful enemy.

However, there is a strange pull _wanting_ him to stay; he can't identify what it is or what it wants, yet he knows that if he is to leave, something would stay. Why is a different matter, but the question is simply to discover what it is before rushing a decision.

He heaves a sigh and throws a fist into the wall, causing it to reverberate violently before stopping, barely before it would have teetered over the edge. It relieves some of the imbalance of emotion in him, relieves the confusion for a mere minute before it returns.

Then he abruptly stops and turns away, heading to prepare for his meeting with Amelie – he needs to appear strong…and have no weaknesses.

.

Around the same time, she's sitting in the Glass House living room, her ability to accept the previous day's events non-existent. All she can do is lie on the sofa and think of the face of the man – elderly compared to her, yet kind and considerate – who lied to her, exploited her feelings and the things that had happened to her in the intervening days between her starting residence in Morganville and now. He's made her feel so _good_, so wanted in a way, yet now she knows it was only because he was using her.

She wants to hate him, she really does, but how can you hate someone about whom all you know is lies? _You can't_, she decides as she slips up from the still half destroyed living room to her bedroom, also in the same state. _He lied and now I don't know what's right and what's wrong_.

Yet she also knows she shan't be forgetting Oliver anytime soon.

_~x~_

Time passes and their paths continue to remain very separate and straight in their alternative directions: Oliver is focusing upon rallying, at times, unwilling troops into fighting against Amelie both outnumbered and out educated; for the survival of their kind, they argue, they cannot kill Amelie – she is the only one with any information on making new vampires.

Claire, meanwhile, focuses on school…oh, and, well, Shane. He asked her out not long after the events at the Glass House to reveal who Oliver really is (needless to say, there's a dartboard with a picture of Oliver as the target in Shane's room now) and she accepted, elated to finally be able to tell people – if they ask – that she's experienced what everyone finds in high school.

They don't bump into each other in the local shops; she doesn't go into Common Grounds unless she's positive he's off duty; he doesn't go to the campus whatsoever, besides to dole out to the supporting vampires which humans are to be wiped off the top of the acceptance list this year.

He misses her, though he doesn't know why; maybe it's because, with the unfortunate exception (as usual) of Amelie, she's the only person in the entire town who has more than half a brain. She's the only other one who knows both about the world of Morganville _and_ the world outside with disturbing clarity – she's almost like him, in a way: ruthless in what she wants, tireless till she gets the end goal, and always striving for the best she can have.

She misses him, though she manages to quantify it as a 'I want to rip out your guts' missing, for she _does_ desire to see him again – to kill him. That's the overbearing emotion in her, that she wants to kill him rather than see him in a social form once more because he's destroyed the fragile routine she was beginning to get used to in Morganville. But underneath, though she never realises this besides at the minute before she falls to sleep, she misses something more than that: he was the most intelligent man – vampire – whom she has met in Morganville thus far, as, let's face it, Shane's good for eating, burping, video games and fighting…not a lot more. She accepts that about her boyfriend, of course she does, but the chance she _had_ for a conversation consisting more of basic facts fed her hunger for MIT further, reminded her that she has an end goal.

And nobody else knows this about either of them. Neither of them mention the other, Oliver continuing to have black moods when the _name_ of the girl who betrayed him is brought up, whilst Oliver is a tabooed word in the Glass House, for both the actions of weeks prior _and_ what he tried to do to Michael…and what he left.

He wanders the streets at dawn, trying to assemble some rationality to the thoughts he continues to have, yet does not desire. Every time something he does not want comes up, he tries to rationalise it with another image: for example, if the one still frame image he has managed to lock in his mind of her laughing pops up, he immediately focuses in on her neck and imagines biting into her delicate membrane, imagines feeling the life leaving her body into him – and it gets him back to Mr Meany, the one who wants to be a usurper.

But when he gets into bed at home, his rationalising doesn't work.

It _can't_.

_~x~_

He knows she's involved with Frank Collins – after all, she's dating his son and why else would Collins Snr be back if Collins Jnr didn't have anything interesting to say? Oliver wants her under his control now more than ever, especially with the pruning he is doing of his Protectees he took from the now deceased Brandon.

Every step he takes in advancing towards her, Amelie seems to counter _and_ stealthily increase her own position in the 'race to get Claire'. Really, he ought to recommend a chess match with the Founder, just to see if she has edited her gameplan against him yet, for he has been practising for the three hundred years between now and their last meeting, waiting for an opportunity to defeat her in the area she blatantly excels in.

Every chance the Founder gets to speak to Claire, Oliver realises sourly, she takes it; she ensures that the image in Claire's mind of Amelie being the golden princess – complete with the halo - remains intact, whilst anything of Oliver is associated with bad, with evil.

As he prunes the men, women and older teenagers he has received from Brandon – the vampire _really_ needed to have been a little more selective, rather than just thinking of the glutton of blood he received from them all. Yet as he considers each and every one of the possibilities for his Protection – bronze coloured bracelets, as 'not to infringe on the silver of Amelie' – his mind ends up twisting around to Claire and considering how well she would look with one of his bracelets on, not Amelie's. As well as the obvious gains for him to have such a desired object in town, there's something else that seems so alluring to have Claire as something belonging to him – something deeper than the stereotypical vampiric urges he would normally put this down to. It's soul provoking, he contemplates, before any thought of _her_ is pushed out of his head; he's not a soft human but rather a powerful vampire, one who doesn't need to think in terms of _love_ or even anything close to that.

There's talk that there's something going down at the old hospital, something that could get him the result he wants. So Oliver discards the sheaf of paper containing the names of his current Protectees and yarns of useless crappy information about them which he does not care, switching his attention to the feed of the many CCTV cameras situated around town at his disposal. True enough, he finds an almost ridiculously brilliant turn of events: the Collins boy walking with Claire – if walking is a word to be able to describe his near sprinting across the screen.

His first sighting of Claire in weeks startles him slightly, for he didn't expect her to be right there, right now. In fact, it has him pause for an entire second, his eyes surveying the screen as he takes in information he never expected: then his brain whirrs around and around, trying desperately to try and make this work…until he formulates a plan that will, if it works as he hopes it will, shall get him _everything_ he desires in the form of Claire Danvers.

.

He arrives at the old hospital in the middle of the action, spotting a golden opening as he drives right up to the area. There's no parking spaces, obviously, but he doesn't really care about human laws – so he just abandons the car in the middle of the road, still running. Nobody would be stupid enough to steal any vampire's car, let alone a vampire who has declared to the entire town how dangerous and ruthless he is.

She's right in front of him, just _waiting_ to be taken, in the strangest of senses. So he whips across the ground, not caring particularly about the sun though he would prefer it if it was slightly more cloudy (why Amelie chose _Texas_ of all places to set up a vampire resort, he doesn't know, but it's not the brightest idea the woman has had) as he reaches out and grabs the girl by the throat, almost surprising her.

As he pulls her closer, the feeling of desire grows ever stronger, him trying to quantify it with the lust for her blood, the sight of the pumping jugular in her neck, trying to make it as if this is the only thing he wants.

Deep down, he knows it isn't.

He offers her the chance to join him under his Protection, threatening her death otherwise. He thinks, quite sanely, that he _will_ kill her if she refuses, because it's better to have no Claire Danvers around than a Claire Danvers who has signed with Amelie. She'd be working with the enemy, working with someone who will poison her mind _entirely_ against him – and he needs the girl, needs Claire to ensure that he has a chance of getting Morganville. Amelie'll put her to use trying to find a cure for a disease that doesn't exist, or only affects the weaker of their race; if Amelie is affected, it simply shows that she isn't fit to be the ruler.

His hand tightens of its own accord on Claire's neck as he hears her whimper, his hand feeling the heat rushing from her body into him. It's the most enjoyable part of being near to a human, feeling the transfer of succulent warmth from the host into him – for the duration of being near the heat source, it makes him feel almost human again…or, rather, allows him to experience the one area of being human he _does_ miss.

Everything blurs together, but he somehow manages to hear her refusing his request, him throwing her onto the floor in anger – yet he doesn't remember how he's gotten here. He ought to _make_ her sign, grab any piece of paper and have her signature so he can apply it to a contract later, but he can't because she's already running away, running into the old hospital; actions that can only end badly for her, because it's falling to pieces and she's more likely than not going to die in there.

"You're going to die, Claire," he calls lazily after her, slipping into the shade to allow his peeling skin a chance to recover. His mouth feels dry, his throat burning with the desire for blood – for _her_ blood – and he's strangely cold from the sudden loss of Claire, from the one thing that can warm him. Even though he's standing with his human delegates, people who are forced to work for him, they don't warm him as they usually do. That's always been part of the reason why he hasn't minded running a coffee shop, because the humans have been able to pass on their body heat and make it just feel so _normal_ for him, rather than when he's alone…

But now…now _she's_ the only one who can warm him. And he bets if he ever tastes her blood, it'll be the benchmark for every other blood he ever drinks again.

She continues to run through the hospital, ignoring his parting words, and he begins to bark orders at his employees, expecting them to be doing things before he has even asked for them to be done. The anger that she refused to sign with him resurfaces and he knocks a human to the floor with one swoop of a fist.

Dead.

It does nothing to alleviate his anger and he finds himself wanting to go into the building after them, wanting to go and get her back and _force_ her to sign with him, ensure that she is his forever. Then, and only then, will he be able to taste whatever blood he desires, feel the heat from her whenever he wants it.

Yet something holds him back, something to do with the fact that his phone is ringing and it's Amelie – and he knows that if you ignore _Amelie_ you're as good as dead.

So he moves away from the others and flips the screen over to answer it, holding the phone to his ear and not speaking because, well, he doesn't really want to talk to her as he knows he'll end up probably saying something he regrets.

"Oliver?" unsurprisingly, Amelie's voice is unhappy to be the one making the first contact with him, as she always likes the control. "Where _are_ you?"

"At the old hospital: both the Collins' are in there…and the girl," he spits down the phone, wishing now that he had gone into the building and ripped Shane to pieces, the git…and his father as well, leaving only the thing he wants. If her boyfriend was gone, he knows that she would have done anything to save her life, to ensure that she didn't go with him – she'd have signed to Oliver, signed her life and freewill over and he would have been the happiest he has been for a long time. But he didn't, so he _really_ needs to stop thinking about what could have been.

"Do you mean Claire?" puzzlement in Amelie's voice as she speaks is rare and Oliver is sardonically glee filled that his unintentional vocabulary choice has led to her not knowing what's going on _exactly_.

"Yes, I mean Claire, what other girl has gotten herself so embroiled in vampire matters, the Queen of England?" he snaps in response, unable to stop himself being so sarcastic to the woman who could kill him – or order him killed, as when does _Amelie_ do any dirty work herself? – within a second…it's his natural reflex, to be so sarcastic, so sardonic to the woman who has destroyed all his hopes and dreams not only once, but many, _many_ times.

"There is no need for that, Oliver," her sharp voice makes him wince slightly as he turns back to face the old human hospital, listening for signs of movement or life…but all there is seems to be huge crashes, most likely chunks of the floor falling down from being walked on yet so rotten underneath. "I presume that you are alluding to Claire being there, rather than simply saying no she is not, in which case know this: if you harm one hair on her head, you shall have to answer to _me_, not to the usual methods."

He gulps but agrees, hanging up as soon as possible as he looks back towards the building. He doesn't know _how_ she's done it, how she's gotten out of there, but she has and she's out and he wants her, oh he wants her so _bad_, yet he simply stalks away and doesn't look back.

.

The week after, he hears that she has signed with Amelie for Protection of the highest order, but she hasn't had to do anything yet. He knows that he would have treated her so differently, but is there any point dwelling on what could have been when the reality is that she will _always_ be Amelie's…until she dies?

Yet it doesn't affect the uncontrollable anger that sometimes courses through him at intermittent intervals, taking the meaning of random to the extreme: one minute, he can be simply melancholy about losing such a bright prospect when the boiling rage hits him.

And it's those moments that make him remember that he _can_ feel heat without her: but just not the heat he has always loved.

_~x~_

She sleeps fitfully, unable to get entirely absorbed in one dream because then another comes along. She tosses and turns, waking every few minutes, until she _finally_ drops off into a sleep so deep, she can't wake up.

It's the one time she _wants_ to.

She sits opposite him in his office in Common Grounds, hoping that he'll let her go, but he doesn't. He continues to talk to her and she finds her dream self is engaged in what he is saying, finding him interesting and riveting in comparison to sheer dullness. A power emulates from him that's completely different to the one she has felt around Amelie, one that seems strong and makes her _want_ to be near him. He's akin to an emphatic speaker to her at the minute, one that is drawing her in even now she doesn't _want_ to be drawn in.

She finds herself standing up as he mutters something she can't hear, yet she doesn't head to the door. No, she finds herself heading into his opening arms, sitting on his knees and just looking at him, in a manner that can only be described as the exact _opposite_ of revulsion: adoration.

And then, his lips begin to move down towards hers as she tilts her head to make it easier…and then they kiss. No dramatics, no hesitation, they simply lock lips as if it is the most natural thing in the world, the sleeping Claire writhing with all her might to get out of a world where she wants to be with Oliver eternally…

Finally, hours too late, she finds herself waking suddenly, lathered in sweat, her thoughts drifting instantly to Oliver. He's not here, she realises, and she never will be with him. She knows that it's too dangerous and he's too scary – yet something about him allures her, something grips into her and makes her think that maybe – _maybe_ – underneath it all, he's not so bad.

Then she swings her legs out of bed, spying Shane next to her and feeling guilty, as her bracelet on her wrist seems to tighten as if to say, he _is_ the bad guy – otherwise why would you be with Amelie now?

_~x~_

Time marches on and they bump into each other when she's in Common Grounds for her necessary intake of mocha, yet she doesn't speak to him. He simply nods at her, as if he has no knowledge of who she is, and somewhere makes her sort of sad that this is the case, but it's the best thing for her survival…so why does she care? Why _should_ she care?

So she heads on to work in the lab, fearful every step of the way and somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knows that Oliver wouldn't have her doing this…no, if there is one thing that signing with Oliver _would_ have meant would be no scary, diseased Myrnin…yet then she wouldn't know that there was a disease.

Catch-22 situation or what?

.

That night is the night where he decides, unable to help himself, that he needs to have a word with her about why she signed with Amelie and not him. Every emotion has subsided in him now, realising that he wasn't exactly the best person to show emotions just like Amelie, and he only wants to know why…perhaps with a little addition of snide sarky comments.

So he heads into the house via the portal system Jason showed him…who was shown by Sam…who Amelie showed it to…who, in turn, learnt about it from Myrnin, who was the craziest vampire Oliver has ever met and the only one who could consider manipulating _wormholes _to get portals across town, then set the frequency to be only detected by those in the know.

She's heading across the hall in the middle of the night, probably heading for some water, and he grabs her. Placing a hand over her mouth to stop her screaming, he pulls her into the secret room and up the stairs, manoeuvring himself so that he is in the position of power…not that it would be hard for such an elderly and powerful vampire to beat a sixteen year old who has managed to cut herself…only in Morganville would this be a problem.

And only in Morganville would Claire Danvers manage to do it…and drive a vampire insane with the scent of her blood.

It's more intoxicating than he could ever possibly have dreamt it to be, a bouquet of tangy flowers and yet almost citrus-y as well…to describe blood is near impossible, the quote "beauty in the eye of the beholder" once again finding itself a way into the thought thread in terms of vampires and blood.

She scowls at him, more annoyed than scared which would have annoyed him even mere weeks ago, yet now…now it only makes him think that maybe she can see something more than a nasty, grumpy git of a vampire. "What do you want?" she demands of him, her eyes flashing as she covers the injury to her wrist.

He smiles slightly in opposition to her scowling and sits down on the sofa, facing the girl continuing to stand. She has no chance of escaping from a vampire, she knows, therefore meaning she remains put when she perhaps would normally have attempted to escape.

"I am most sincerely hurt, Claire," he says to her, his tone making out to be that he is simply lying, or insinuating something that is not true. "After all, I see the bracelet on your wrist that marks you as Amelie's, yet I sincerely remember offering you _my_ Protection, if you were choosing to take Protection, first," he motions to the bracelet on the arm covering the other one and she blushes slightly, bowing her head.

"At least Amelie _hasn't tried to kill me_," she hisses the last bit at him, being the most daring anyone has been to Oliver in so many a year and believing her bracelet holds complete protection.

This gets his back up, even though he can't even explain anything in accordance to Claire, and he snarls, grabbing her injured wrist from behind the other. The smell of the blood drives him forwards even as he speaks, his hand scrabbling to find the end of the bandage.

"Careful, little girl," he hisses, finally finding the end – the one he is looking for. "That bracelet of yours means almost nothing to me other than that I shouldn't leave witnesses," _this_ gets her attention in a less positive way, him watching as her face drains of all colour.

A shooting depth – that's the only way to describe the feeling of almost entire penetration into his soul – shoots into him at this point, just as the bandage exposes the continually flowing fresh stream of blood.

A trickle runs onto his finger, which he then lifts to his lips and tastes, his eyes shutting as the momentousness of the occasion hits him. it's _more_ than he ever dared to dream of…it's so sweet, so poignant, so tasty, so…so…perfect is the only word to describe the taste of her blood in his mouth, the lingering trail of it as it disappears down his throat, leaving him desperate for more. He _needs_ more; he needs this blood to survive – it's as he thought before, no blood will _ever_ taste as good as this.

Slowly but surely, he lifts her wrist to his mouth and licks it clean, his saliva closing the wound over. As he returns her wrist to where it was before, he looks at her face; she doesn't appear entirely disgusted, yet he doesn't feel as if she has entirely appreciated his licking of her wrist.

"I need to…go back to bed," she whispers, but he grabs her wrists _again_, stopping her from moving an inch as he looks down into her eyes. Nothing is guided by brain function, simply impulsive movements that he thinks he should make in accordance to everything he has learnt about so called 'emotions'. And it's telling him to kiss her.

So he does: he leans over and presses his lips to hers, the scent of her slightly salty blood strong in the air as he waits for her to kiss him back, something she does after a short pause.

All too soon for him, it's over.

She forces him off, not quite screaming yet not at all happy, evident by the tears streaming down her cheeks as she mutters something about cheating on Shane over and over again. It's hurting him as much as it hurt him to see Amelie with Sam to see Claire like this so he steps away to allow her even a minute almost solitary, to sort through her thoughts.

As this happens, he realises it's too soon for her: he's becoming aware of a kinship between the current time and past feelings with another woman, yet she's nowhere near ready. To her, he's still the nasty man who tried to kill Michael and left him as a ghost, then tried to kill them all _again_ for a damned book…then tried to kill her yet again to get Shane out – everything he seems to have done to her has wronged her, rather than anything else. She's just not _ready_…and, for that, he needs to erase this from her memory.

Somehow, he manages to make her look at him and he stares into her huge brown eyes, wondering if this is some sort of dream or whether he really _is_ staring into stars. Brighter than the sky is blue, they shine out: lights guiding his way home, if you were to quote the popular band of Coldplay; the one bright spot in his existence; the only truly _sparkling_ thing in the entire universe.

"You shall forget all of this," he informs her, his low voice rougher than normal. "You shall not remember this until it is time for you to remember. Do you understand?"

She nods slowly, the focus in her eyes fading, dimming away: a star reaching the end of its cycle of life. It's going to become a neutron star now, something faded away into oblivion, the spark of brilliance, of _Claire, _fading from her eyes with every second that passes.

"Good," he finally breaks the silence once again, the almost fear to continue to look at someone who now almost doesn't know who he is overwhelming him, "Go back to bed, Claire, and don't remember a word of this."

And so she disappears as he unlocks the door, leaving him alone in the secret room, the room which has known so many secrets, yet so little of them shared with him. and he and Claire have just added a new secret to the roster, leavers of which include Amelie, Sam, Eve, Michael, Shane and many, _many_ unnamed others.

As he sits there, a small tear leaks out of the corner of his eye.

He thinks he loves her.

_~x~_

He's not sure as to what's going on with her and him, especially since their contact is limited to the odd meeting every now and then, neither here nor there, and Amelie isn't particularly bothered about having them work together and become new best chums, since there's still the war between her and Oliver.

So he hides away in his office, waiting and hoping that she'll come in to get a coffee today, that he can see her again; she's fading from his mind…well, her body is; her scent and blood is ingrained into his brain forever.

Everything and everyone – no matter how fresh – tastes sour to him now, almost comparable to a human eating overripe fruit. It's disgusting, painful and downright awful to have to chug down something necessary to survive, especially when it used to taste so _good_. But the burning of the taste of Claire lingers in his throat, pronounced every time he drinks another's blood, and he knows the only way to sate it is _her_.

He has no reason to contact her, no _way_ to contact her anyway, since he has been barred from the Glass House by Amelie, through her many powers she refuses to divulge with another for her own security as the eldest vampire. he can't get in to see her, can't even get near to it…until one day.

.

One of the Glass House residents open the back door to him as he pounds it relentlessly, having heard that Amelie's father is back in town; it's something so shocking that it removes him from any debate about Claire and simply focuses him on the fact that either someone is back from the dead, or another person (namely his daughter) didn't do their job right in killing him.

He's barely let in but as soon as he's in, he affirms that Claire is ok. he can't smell her blood, which he supposes is a good thing for he wouldn't exactly be rational in thinking – it seems strangely like those _twilight_ books; perhaps the writer has some semblance of truth in there after all – if he could smell her blood. But no, there is yet to be blood spilt, which is always a bonus when humans have spent more than about thirty seconds in the company of Mr Bishop.

If he and Amelie are dangerous, they are in a whole different league to Bishop, the most ruthless and disturbed one of the lot of them; there's a reason he was so powerful – nobody dared to take him on…and the one person who did, failed.

Without even needing Amelie present, he knows that they are united once again in the face of their common enemy, the worst thing to happen to the world in their entire lives, no question about it. If they could rid Earth of one thing – the thing they thought they had achieved – it would be Mr Bishop, the vampire who thinks nothing of destroying those who don't bring his tea at precisely three oh four am. Crazy is another word to describe him, and to know that Claire has been left alone with him almost drives Oliver to the same level of insanity – just, in his case, for a girl.

It's the first time he has considered another's well being before his own, having gone between shock of seeing Bishop there straight to wondering if Claire had survived unharmed, or if she was nursing hidden injuries. A quick once over with all his senses tells him it's the first option, that she's absolutely fine, yet she seems almost as scared of him as she is of Bishop, which is more than slightly skewed. If she has learnt one thing wrong in Morganville, it is that Oliver is the biggest threat out there. That would be Bishop, followed by Amelie simply because of their kinship. And then, and only then, it's Oliver.

Amelie, unsurprisingly, arrives at this moment, almost to upstage him – though not really, as it means that he doesn't have to get that close to Bishop. Between them, they manage to get the Glass House residents to leave – not that it's too hard to persuade them to leave Bishop to them – before stalking through to approach Bishop and his two sidekicks, centuries after they thought them dead.

"Why, Amelie, it's been centuries since you attempted to kill me," her father's snide comment attacks her instantly as she walks through the door, Oliver shaking his head almost imperceptibly. There's two people who can make Amelie feel like nothing, he knows: her father…and, if he so desired, Sam. For the first time he can truly know that this is the truth, that he _definitely_ doesn't mind that she and Sam are so blatantly soul mates – that's the reason why _they_ were never to be together…it's because her heart already belonged to someone in the future.

Just like his _could_.

"Well, I cannot say that I have particularly missed you in the intervening years," Amelie's cool voice retaliates after a short pause during which she calculated what to say. Oliver wonders how long it will be until the attention is refocused upon him rather than the daughter of the inquisitor, and is rewarded with this turn of events near instantly.

"And how is the lovesick puppy that continues to follow in your footfalls, yet never truly understanding what the rest of us can blatantly see?" Bishop's snide comment to Oliver almost has him attacking the older vampire, yet he manages to restrain himself – just.

"I'd be better if you referred to me as _Oliver_, rather than a term which I see no relevance to either myself or the conversation," he snaps, his tone as sharp as Amelie's…all this does is reward him with an almost surprised look from Amelie, whilst Bishop struggles with a response, which is always strange.

"The girl with the bracelet," he changes the topic entirely, refocusing upon the Glass House children who have just left. "Who does she belong to – for I can only assume it marks the Protection scheme?" Bishop directs this at the pair of vampires standing before him, neither of them relaxed whatsoever.

"Me," they recite in unison, Oliver's response wrong because as soon as the subject of the conversation became Claire, he remembered feelings he has, things that he wants to forget – _ought_ to forget – but can't.

Another surprised look from Amelie is shot Oliver's way and he realises that he's wrong, that she doesn't belong to him – not like that, at least…and his 'claim' on her isn't known by another soul, vampire or not. Not even the girl is aware of it – yet – and therefore for this to be said in front of the most dangerous vampires in the world, it isn't a good thing…but only Amelie knows he has lied.

"_Both_ of you own her?" even Bishop is shocked at this, unable to accept how they could be working together.

"_No_," Oliver covers his tracks, ignoring the look Amelie throws at him – the one that shows she wants to be having words with him. "What I meant by saying the girl is mine is that she _should_ be mine. I all but had her when Amelie stole her from me," he throws the woman standing beside him an ice cold look, yet he doesn't mean it; it's all part of playing the act with Bishop.

"Amelie only seems to be able to steal, is that not right?" her father gets into dangerous waters and both the Morganville vampires know it is time for him to be leaving.

.

Within a few minutes, they have bundled him off, throwing him into one of the spare Founders houses they – Amelie – has for situations such as this…though she never expected he would return.

"What are we going to do?" he asks her as they sit down at the dining table to play chess, waiting for the children to return. It's going to most likely involve a conversation he doesn't desire to have with her, yet he knows it shall happen sooner or later…but he can stall with requests as to what they are going to do with Bishop.

"We…we…_are_ we a we, Oliver, or are you going to turn against me and work for him?" she muses quietly, setting up the board with deft movements, not even looking at it.

"You actually expect me to side _against_ you?"

"Have you, or have you not, attempted to take my town from me repeatedly?" her searching question is complete with eyes raking his face to see if there is any hesitation present.

"That is different," he answers, his eyes remaining firmly locked in hers. "We are united against Bishop, Amelie, as we always have been."

"Good," she responds, making her first move almost without him noticing her moving. "Then you shall have no qualms with _pretending_ to be a toy of my father's then, if your loyalty to me is unable to be wavered," she continues, her tone nonchalant as she drops the bombshell he shall be spying for her.

"_What_?" he chokes, wondering if it is just coincidental irony that he is now expected to be the 'bad guy' that Claire has always thought he is…and is it him, or does everything seem to link back to Claire?

"I _said_," Amelie sighs impatiently, "That you are going to be spying for me; after all, he is aware that you harbour slightly less…_pleasant_ feelings in regards to me, therefore for you to be a turncoat along with probably half the town shan't been too surprising," the slight shrugging of her shoulders hides the pain in her eyes that her people would side with her father over her…but this doesn't bother Oliver.

"No," he refuses, stealing one of Amelie's pieces in a most obvious fashion, realising afterwards that it was _too_ obvious. As soon as he has taken her castle – a less valuable piece – her queen swoops in and removes his own from the board, effectively ending the game. The master of stealth has returned, he realises; the one who _always_ has a plan is back…and he's to be the faux traitor.

Her eyes bore into his. "You _will_ do this," she informs him. "Or certain less pleasant – for you, at least – conversations shall be brought forwards, in this very location," she hisses and he realises she has no illusions as to his feelings for Claire…or what he supposes could form feelings. Yet she is saving it for a later date, a more convenient place where the subject cannot walk in.

Just as she finishes speaking, the door opens to return the residents to their home. A triumphant expression is on Amelie's face as he recognises he must agree now, or perhaps face the wrath of four others if his thoughts are revealed. So, with a heavy sigh, he nods to show he understands what she wants before the others join the table.

Everything is explained but he doesn't focus on any of that; all he can see is the girl in front of him, the girl whose blood is so _intoxicating_, so perfect, so…so incandescent. He can't see anything but her now she is in the room, yet he tries to avert his gaze as he catches a knowing smile upon Amelie's face.

Finally, he excuses himself and stalks out of the house, already on his way to appear to be betraying Amelie, though this is her wish. A _treble_ agent, he could be called, pretending to be with Amelie for Bishop's sake, yet pretending to be with Bishop for Amelie, when he is _actually_, forever and always, Amelie's. Most likely never again will he fight against Amelie, for a period of alliance _usually_, in his experience, cements relations for many a year.

All he can think of as he heads to Founder House 7 is Claire, thinking how all he does from now on shall apparently show him to be what she thinks he is, though she shouldn't see the double agent side – not until the very end. Amelie can think everything can be peaceful until the cows come home; he knows that this shall incur great bloodshed, no question about it. They're going to be hiding from him, though _he, _Oliver, shall be pretending to be Bishop's, and then it shall cumulate in something that shall show him to be a traitor to all…until the bitter, bitter end, when Amelie is victorious.

It's a complex idea, yet he knows those moments of _Claire_ thinking that he is pure evil – as perhaps the fighting _with_ Amelie shall eradicate some of the distrust…he hopes – shall be the worst of his life.

Almost as bad as if she dies.

_~x~_

The time for the feast comes and he doesn't dare to take Claire, for fear that the world of Morganville would find out how he feels, even though he can take any human he desires and they _have_ to attend. He could make her come and make her realise that she loves him back – something he knows, deep down beneath it all, she does; as otherwise they couldn't have this connection that he feels – but that would be too dangerous because he doubts that Amelie has plans to take a human underground with them…oh no, Claire Danvers shall be left for Bishop, made to think _he_ has the most important thing in Morganville – and how would that work out if Claire was known to be in love with Oliver?

It wouldn't, so he settles for taking her mother, someone half as attractive yet nowhere near as tempting; her blood smells of the same mediocrity every other human's does now, her heat nonexistent like the others. She sounds like Claire, even half looks like her, yet she is _nothing_ compared to her daughter…it's a poor substitute, yet the knowledge Claire is home and safe is enough for him.

But she's not.

His nostrils catch her scent, able to be smelt even a hundred metres away, and he knows instantly that she's here, that she made Myrnin bring her. So utterly _Claire_, wanting to be in on the action when it's the most horrific night she will have ever seen so far.

And the theatrics begin.

Every second, he has his eyes on her, watching as she finally – _finally_ – draws her eyes to him. In the one second they have before she looks away to listen to Myrnin – who _does_ look ill, he now realises…perhaps Amelie has always been right – he can read her soul, read the artificial love for Shane and penetrate into her heart.

He can see him inside of it somehow, see the desire she has for him, the desire she continually squashes away because she _shouldn't_ love him. To love him is wrong, the most wrong thing she could ever do, yet she does and she tries to deny it.

.

Her eyes lock with his and she can't help but let him in, let the squished love beneath the surface out for the first time. She's never been able to confess this – even to herself – before now but she can read him from this far away and knows that he loves her…and she loves him.

It's indescribable, yet she knows that all she needs to do is go over to him and tell him, damning the consequences, ignoring the fact that they could all die with Bishop there. He's dangerous, so dangerous it makes Amelie look like a kitten and Oliver…well, he can't even be compared to this man; she's been so _wrong_ to think he has always been trying to kill her.

But Myrnin whispers something important in her ear, something she needs to know if she wants to have a chance of getting out of the feast alive. So she looks away from him before the decision to move is made for her by her heart, and the suddenness of the desolation creeping over her is more shocking than learning about the existence of vampires.

And then…then everything happens.

And it all goes boom.

_~x~_

They're all back in the Glass House, preparing to fight Bishop and it could all go belly up. They're all heading in different directions and he tries desperately to find the girl who he knows is here because he can smell her and it is driving him _insane_. He lost her when he kicked her out of the room when he was healing Amelie and he needs her back to know she's safe before they both go risk their lives…but not him _really_ as Bishop thinks he belongs to him.

But Claire…Claire could be killed; though she's valuable to everyone involved, if she were to die, it wouldn't be a travesty to Bishop…but to him, to Oliver, it would be the worst thing in the world. It would break the bond between them, leaving him desolate for the rest of his life, unable to accept that Claire has gone. Even though she would be dead, he would forever be haunted by her blood, her and her ability alone to warm him now – the one for him, though it seems so _disgusting_ to her now…but it's the truth.

Finally, _finally_, he finds her near the door, hiding from the masses of both humans and vampires cluttering up every spare bit of space in the entire Glass House. She's curled up and, even though he only fed earlier, she makes him feel as if he needs her blood. She's entirely what he needs, the thing that he knows would make him five thousand times better at fighting, yet he can't bite her because where would that leave him? he hasn't spoken to Amelie about anything to do with Claire and if he is found to be taking her blood, it'll be a bigger disaster than anything else – after all, the only person who knows about him being needed as a double agent is Amelie…so far.

So he stays away and watches as Amelie comes down the stairs, his senses entirely focused on a girl who pushes her boyfriend away as he goes near her. Oliver smiles at this, sensing something yet not wanting to mention it, and barely listens to the orders Amelie is giving him; to go to the base of Common Grounds…whilst she takes Claire into the lion's den.

"Can I have a word?" he growls at Amelie, grabbing her arm as he zooms beside her. She looks startled but nods, telling him he has thirty seconds before he has to leave, and they head up to the secret room.

"What is it, Oliver?" she sighs as she sits down not three metres away from where she lay bleeding mere minutes ago.

"You're taking Claire into the thick of it and relegating _me_ to _Common Grounds_?" he snaps, managing to just about make it sound more like he's bothered about having no job to do rather than the worry that Claire shall have more chance of getting killed.

She looks at him and smiles slightly, her eyes telling him that she knows it is more than that, that he cares for Claire more than he would ever outwardly admit without any requiting of the love.

"Do you wish to talk about your feelings for Claire?" she asks him, taking advantage of the lack of people in the room to discuss this.

His silence speaks volume.

"I shall take that as a no then," she sighs, standing up and walking towards the door after pressing the concealed button. "I am taking Claire with me because she is valuable and she is the only one who can assist rescuing Myrnin. You are remaining at Common Grounds because my Father believes that I do not trust you enough to be part of the main mission, though you know that this is untrue. Does this answer your question?"

He nods and watches her disappear before following suit, blurring past her on the stairs and out of the door without looking at Claire. He doesn't look at her but as he passes her, her scent fills his nostrils. She entirely fills his thoughts, even as he barks orders for others to follow him down the path, entirely business like. He's back to being nasty Oliver, the one who only wants to win, if he can't have Claire near him.

And he can't.

_~x~_

She's falling in love with him, though she can't put this terminology to it because he thinks she loves _Shane_. But as Oliver walks out of the door, possibly to death (though not likely), he captivates her attention entirely. She can only think about how he _obviously_ isn't as bad as he made himself out to be, as bad as he tries to prove to the world that he's the toughest vampire in Morganville.

She hears his voice and the pull of her heart towards him makes her realise that the prospect of her dying without even talking to him properly is more horrific than she could ever verbalise. And she wants to run out after him, to call him back and tell him to come on the front line rather than hiding out in Common Grounds, but she can't because how would she explain that to Shane and every other sane person in the world?

So she ignores it and says goodbye to Shane, watching as he goes out into the Bloodmobile…and, for the first time, she wishes that maybe, just _maybe_, he won't come home.

And then she feels sickened.

_~x~_

"Oliver, focus upon the task at hand," Amelie says wearily, running a hand through her messy hair, static with the location where they are. They're hiding out underground, where they've been for the past five or so months, and he has been thinking about Claire _again_.

He wants to see her again, to tell her that the siren call of her blood continues to call to him just a strongly even though months have passed. He wants to feel her heat seeping into him, to simply _see_ her, to know she's ok. He knows she's alive but that's not the same as being happy or ok…it's just existing.

Under Bishop, he can't see how she _can_ be happy, how she can accept that everything is ok…after all, you need Amelie to have even a balanced Morganville, or, as much as he hates to admit it, Sam. He's a piece that shows that Morganville is normal and now he's underground – unfortunately – it only shows that everything is different…and different is not good.

Things are going to come to a head soon, but Claire's 'charm' (for want of a better word) is fading and perhaps – perhaps – they can get her back on hard, to let her know that they've not given up. After all, a lack of outward progress, outward action and rebellion against Bishop, simply makes it look as if they've just given up and fled, left the others to fend for themselves in what is only a game to Bishop.

"What?" he mutters, shaking his head and looking up at her with narrowed eyes. "I don't know what you want me to do, Amelie."

"Shake yourself out of your melancholy mood and recognise that _she is not here_," Amelie hisses at him, her words reverberating through the empty room. They're in a top secret planning meeting, so secret that even _Sam_ can't come in, which shows something for how much she trusts Oliver…or wants to talk to him about Claire.

"I know that," he replies, not knowing whether to deny it or not. "Before you ask, I didn't _choose_ to fall in love, much like I assume the same is true with yourself and Sam," he cuts her off before she can even form the beginning of a question, stalling her for a moment. The precious moments of silence are golden, glistening jems in an otherwise bland and mundane sea of normality.

"I understand that…but Claire is a _liability_ at the minute," Amelie tries to remind him why she has been kept in the dark, why she doesn't even warrant to know that they are continuing to fight.

"Yes, because you planned to leave her there, a lamb to the slaughter," he snarls at her, shooting up from his seat and clearing the desk of every piece of paper. "You plotted to use her to get Myrnin back and then left her there, an almost _tribute_ to him so we could escape."

She blinks once, and then twice, before she nods slowly and verbally agrees with him. "I admit, I worked into my plan utilising Claire in order for us to set up this base without being detected; however, would you rather have already had the 'showdown' with my Father or have had this time to prepare? She has not been harmed, that I can assure you."

"That's not my _point_!" he hisses, making to swipe everything off but realising he has already done this. The anger boils past his previous limit, imagining the blood of Claire being spilt – the blood he so desires. Yet there's her personality he already knows he loves, yet continues to hate the way he has to classify his feelings as something as soppy as 'love'. He can't have her in danger.

"I know," she smiles sadly and picks up a piece of paper that captures her eye. "You love her and it is acceptable to admit that, Oliver, even for you. But just _think_ before you plan on becoming her cavalry."

She hands him the paper face down as she walks out of the room, he turning the paper as she leaves:

**DEAD**

That's all it says.

_~x~_

The very next day, before he's even fully calm, he finds himself called in the group summoned to Claire, who has used the bracelet in a way that Amelie has never taught her. Somehow, he finds himself smelling the girl's blood and it's all he can do to stop himself lunging at the portal to get to her. He's desired to even see her for so long; the chance to see her _and_ smell her fresh blood is almost too much.

Somehow, Amelie gets a hand on him and throws him in the direction of the black robes, ordering him to dress in them to prevent the sun bothering him. They're lined with blood, somehow, so what energy the sun drains is replaced by the drinking of the blood. It's never exactly helped the continual empty feeling in him ever since he made the mistake of trying her blood that night, made the mistake of kissing her and then erasing her memory.

He only wants her to remember and now, as they head to the school to find her, he knows this is a chance for him to talk to her. He never thought that he would fall in love as a vampire, yet he has and it scares him. In a strange way, he almost wants to have a little chat with Amelie about loving a human, yet he doesn't dare; for one, they don't hav the time and also, it would be _awkward_!

She's in the science room in the disused classrooms, he can tell as soon as they begin to stride into the school, in broad daylight. Nobody sees them or, if they do, dares to stop them as they stride with a purpose into the building. They're powerful, so powerful, so strong, and he can't tell why Amelie has held off from fighting Bishop until now because even at the beginning of the war they would have won. But she's a coward and puts other people in position first and he admits that they needed the cure before they could destroy Bishop.

And she is getting closer and closer, her heartbeat almost driving him insane. He can already feel the heat emulating from her from this far away, feel the warmth falling into his body and he almost feels content for a minute. Then he is reminded why he wants her, why he _needs_ her, and the bloodlust returns. He desires her blood, yet he can't have it. It's torment, yet he'll survive; he hasn't killed her yet, has he? He hasn't bitten her, hasn't done anything that he shouldn't…

They walk into the room and approach the girl who looks shocked at seeing the vampires here so soon, even though she called them. Her eyes lock with Amelie's and then…and then they turn to Oliver.

It's everything he has that stops him striding across the room and taking her with him right there, right now; it's everything he has that makes him stay right next to Amelie as she questions what Claire could want (_want_!) after so many months of pure isolation.

He can read her perfectly through those eyes, see the months of torment in not speaking to him, not clarifying the unspoken questions in her eyes that he can see. There's almost relief that he isn't dead and the knowledge he has about him never being on a hit list for Bishop has never been shared with her, never been shared with anyone but the inner circle in their resistance…she's going to hate him in a few days, yet, now, he can see lust and desire for him in her eyes…

Her eyes draw away from his with regret, focusing on Amelie as she begins to question Claire as to what she has done and why. He can't focus on anything other than the delicate membrane of the girl before him, focus on the sound of the words emulating from her mouth rather than what she is saying. She's his personal sun: the one that makes him feel warm – toasty warm – and it's so delicious to be near her…

He finds himself edging nearer and nearer as Amelie turns away, dissatisfied with something or other as per usual. She calls them all away…besides him.

As he turns to look at the woman retreating – as usual – from the situation, she nods slowly, giving her consent for the conversation that shall ensue.

And then the door slams shut.

He takes another step towards her, the girl with everything he desires before him, and she does the same, her mouth tightly shut. It's a refreshing change for when he's around her, since she normally talks one hundred to the dozen, yet now, when it matters, she doesn't say a word.

They're five metres apart, four, three, two…they're half a metre apart and nearing ever closer; she can touch him now without having to lean too far, able to feel any part of him that she desires, yet she doesn't. She simply stands in front of him and looks into his eyes, trying to see if this is just a game, whether _all_ he wants is her blood or if…if he wants her as well.

"Claire," he breaks the silence, his voice low and deep as he removes the hood from his head. All it does is intensify her scent, make the overwhelmingness of _her_ even worse, yet he manages. He doesn't want to break her trust, not when he has to do it so much horrendously in a short while.

"I remember," is all she says, her words soft and quiet. One hand raises up onto his shoulder, pale cream upon an ebony black, as stark a contrast as you could possibly imagine. The feeling of her on his skin, albeit through a thick cloak, almost drives him as crazy as Myrnin, near incontrollable with lust. "I remember you kissed me, Oliver, and that I kissed you back…I remember _everything_."

And then she is kissing him again, her kissing _him,_ and it's so strange because she's a teenager and he's physically in his late thirties, early forties. It looks so _wrong_, yet it feels so right, the chemistry perfect as they cling to one another, kissing her almost making him think her blood is sliding down his throat (it's not).

He breaks away after a long time, watching as the sun begins to set from behind the heavily tinted windows. "I can't…this is dangerous, Claire," he informs her, knowing he _has_ to allow her a chance to escape…not that he would let her, but they live in a democracy and therefore she has to be able to think she can decide.

"We live in a _warzone_, Oliver; I hardly doubt that this is dangerous compared to that," she snorts, remaining close to him – and she's like the glow a buttercup gives your skin, the emulation of everything brilliant.

"Mhm," he agrees, realising that he has to leave. He's not going to see her again before the big finale on the dais, before he appears to be a traitor to everyone. "I have to go, Claire, but know that things are complex and not…not always what they seem."

And, with that, he whirls out of the room.

.

She doesn't know what he meant by his parting words, but her hand remains glued to her lips as she walks home, unable to believe that this has happened. It's not conventional love, the person you'd be happy to show the parents as the new boyfriend, yet there's some connection there; he doesn't exactly warm her when he's around, yet he makes her feel complete. There's nothing missing when he's around, an entirely whole Claire who no longer feels as bitter about being abandoned by Amelie and the others when they disappeared and left her with Bishop.

It's different, yet she's happy and that's all that matters.

Right?

_~x~_

The day of the finale, so to speak, of the fight, the accumulation of all the tension in the air around Morganville, is here. It's the day where he has to go to Bishop and finally tell him where Amelie and the others are, something he has been stalling until this very day.

It's the day where the future of Morganville shall be made, as to whether it is disbanded with most people dying, or whether Amelie returns to be the leader.

It's also the day he has to pretend to be a traitor.

He gets up early and looks out at the rising sun, unable to help himself comparing Claire to it; when he returned yesterday, Amelie asked no questions and expected no answers, yet something in Sam's face made him know that it was common knowledge (at least in their camp) that he had something for the human girl.

Amelie and Sam all over again… but in reverse.

He turns to see Amelie standing behind him, holding the vial of poison he must take shortly before he goes on stage with her. They both know what is going to happen, that one of them shall die, and he hopes to _God_ – if such a thing exists – that it isn't him because he doesn't want Claire to remember him as a traitor. He doesn't want to leave her, leave the things unsaid in that state forever…no, he wants to tell her everything, tell her how he came…how he came to be in love with her.

"This is it," she smiles slightly though her hand shakes almost imperceptibly. "Of myself, you and Sam, tonight one of us shall die. It shall be the end of the road, yet I can say safely that I have my beliefs as to whom it shall be…but remember, Oliver, that this poison is _only_ if we are ignored, if he goes for you. Understand that."

He knows she thinks it shall be her, a punishment from her father to show that he can be ruthless beyond measures to murder his own daughter. He knows she thinks that she won't be able to say another word to Sam, won't be able to tell him that her actions have all hidden the love she has for him – he knows she does, because he tried to copy the same mantra with Claire to hide that he loves her. It didn't work, just like with her, and he knows the letter in her pocket shall explain all of that…but he doesn't know who Bishop shall choose – it _will_ be one of them.

But which one?

He isn't a betting man: he waits to see the outcome before making his mind up; to bet is to wager upon luck and he doesn't believe in luck. He doesn't believe that weighing up different people against one another can justify an answer because people – if vampires can be called that – are strange and almost never do as expected.

"I shall take it when we meet once again," he nods slowly, slipping the tiny vial into his pocket as he turns back to see the sun for what could be the last time. Yet it isn't the sun that he sees, but Claire's face.

"I trust you shall," is her response as her hand rests on his arm for one short second. "We have worked well together, my friend, and I trust that we can in the future…if the odds are in our favour," a wobble of her bottom lip and she is out of the room, most likely to spend her final moments with the man she loves.

Whilst he destroys their entire lives.

.

He's waiting in Bishop's office, Amelie in the cells below with Sam, waiting to be called to take her to the stage. The entire town of Morganville is crowded up in Founder's Square and he knows that Claire shall be on her way soon to find him, a traitor.

And that, somehow, reminds him to take the poison, tasting like an almost liquorice wand, yet not particularly because even liquorice doesn't taste this bad. He feels instantly weakened, knowing now for _sure _that only Claire can bring him back from this…

But then Ysandre comes in and informs him that it's 'time for his showing', to show he caught the most infamous vampires in Morganville for now, and that one of them shall be dying. It wasn't part of Amelie's plan for him to have taken the poison instantly, for he should be fighting. But he had to take it, incase he is shown to be a…well, this is where it gets complicated! If Bishop has known all along that he, Oliver, isn't really on his side, then he could go for him, so therefore taking the vial is always a bonus. And if not, then he can take the antidote and have Claire all in one go…there are always bonuses and negatives to each plan, and he has just identified one of each.

.

He's revealed on the stage to her and he struggles to hide the crushing pain he gets as he realises she recognises he's a traitor – or she thinks he is. She hasn't put together this and the warning he gave her in the classroom and she hates him; that much is evident in his eyes.

Yet he's unsteady on his feet from the poison and he can tell that Amelie knows that he has taken it, the look of anger on her face present for a split second before being replaced by the fear for Sam – he was never meant to be in the main battle.

And, in this moment, Oliver knows who Bishop is going to choose, perhaps before any of the others are.

Bishop swoops on Sam as Oliver continues to hold Amelie, forcing her back from the confrontation with Bishop because she's weak. He removes the chain yet he wraps her in his arms, all the while watching Claire's face become clouded with confusion. He can't tell why she's confused, whether it's because she is figuring out the meaning of his prior words or because she can't tell why someone on Bishop's side would be comforting Amelie as her life partner is murdered by her own father.

And it's this moment as well that Oliver not only realises the utter danger Bishop invokes upon them all, but also that him and Claire are a short term thing, most likely, and are going to end in tragedy. He doesn't know how he knows this, yet he knows that this moment is a premonition of their ending, that one of them will, sooner or later, die – and not just of old age.

He releases Amelie as all hell breaks loose on stage, Myrnin darting forwards with the cure for the poison which he injects into Amelie before she darts to Sam. Everyone begins to fight but everything blurs into one as Oliver focuses solely on finding Claire, on making sure _nobody_ tries to kill her – and hell hath no fury like Oliver in regards to Claire.

She's mixed in with Michael and another vampire as they fight Ysandre, until Oliver simply stakes her down. The scent of Claire's blood flowing from her arm almost overwhelms him, as does the look on her face that suggests she knows that he didn't really betray them, that it was all an act, but there's no time to act on it now. They have to vilify Sam's murder, vilify the destruction of Amelie and get rid of the bastard – this time, forever.

_~x~_

It takes many an hour, but they're finally victorious, not that you would be able to tell that from the looks on the faces of ninety percent of the people there. Every single person is devastated by the loss of Sam, even Oliver in the strangest of ways, and they remain entirely respectful for the entire evening.

He stands by Claire and it's too much; he _needs_ to talk to her. It's not a desire but a need, a need to tell her everything and that he loves her – he's going to tell her that, even though he's a scary vampire and shouldn't be capable of love, let alone with such a young human.

"Come with me?" he whispers, wondering if she'll go with him if she even thinks he could still be a traitor.

But she follows with him easily, walking into another room and shutting the door before sitting down opposite him as she waits for an explanation.

She gets it: she gets absolutely everything from the very beginning, gets how he tried to entirely deny there was anything, gets how he tried to make her see the connection – he tells her everything. She can't be in the dark about anything, he realises; they have to be equals.

So she knows all that there is to know about him and his feelings for her. When it's soaking in, they sit in silence until she finally raises her head from the floor and her eyes meet his: chocolate brown meeting silvery green.

"I guess it's always been here," is all she says, not making the most sense to him, since it's girl talk and he's never heard that phrase before. "I've always had a need for someone like you…and who cares if it's wrong? You follow your heart and you're evidently what I want."

This kiss is tender, sweet, everything you would never expect from a vampire who thirsts for her blood. It's the image of perfection, everything you desire, and she knows that this is her forever.

He's her forever.

_~x~_

They sit together in the church for Sam's funeral, marking the end of one eternally lasting relationship with the beginning of another.

As they look on upon the body of the fallen warrior, the fallen redhead who deserved life, not death, the only _purely_ innocent thing in the entire world of Morganville, her hand slips into his.

The smallest token of affection, yet it's what seals their belief that this is the start. No matter how wrong it is, no matter how much others may slate it, they're the ones for each other and they're going to be together.

Forever.

* * *

_Whoa._

_Longer than AmelieOliver and idk if it's that good._

_Don't fav or even __read__ without reviewing, please and thanks!_

_Oh and do you want another one that continues on from this, but __**wayy**__ in the future? As in the bit that was mentioned around Sam's death?_

_Tell me!_

_Vicky xxx_


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